


Steve Rogers and the Hunt for the Amazing Camera-Man

by havetaoque



Category: Captain America (Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Cameras, Coffee Shop, Crack Fic, Daily Bugle, Domestic Avengers, Fluff, Gen, Gift Fic, Humor, Jameson has a grudge, Language, M for Deadpool later on maybe, M for Peter's potty mouth, M for language, Natasha being scary, Paparazzi, Photography, Tabloids, Tony Stark Has A Heart, garfield spidey, it's hilarious to everyone else, more tags to come but not yet, wade's a bad influence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-30
Updated: 2017-06-30
Packaged: 2018-11-21 08:38:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11353839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/havetaoque/pseuds/havetaoque
Summary: Steve Rogers is used to being artistically photographed in high quality, but usually he knows where the camera is and who's behind it. Lately though, he's been all over the front page of a certain Daily Bugle with beautiful photos, but with articles less than complimentary and bordering on the illogical. And he can't spot the little shit taking his picture! He needs a plan.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is for my friend, codename: Batman, and was inspired by his prompt: Steve is going for a morning run when he spots Spider-Man swinging across a building holding a pizza. He wonders if he can catch up to him and learn more about this strange kid.
> 
> I think you were going more for post-CW, but CW was heartbreaking, let's be honest, and that just leads to angsty sad fic for me. This kind of came out of the blue, but it's humor, like you wanted (or I hope it is) and I hope you like it. Thanks for prompting me to try writing from Steve's POV.

There’s ice on the sidewalk, and he knows people are shaking their heads at him, but he’s a ninety-nine year old, he can do whatever the hell he likes, thank you very much. And no, Tony, he doesn’t need life alert. Yes, a Stark tech alert is superior, he knows, he’ll be fine, serum and all that. Ice is an old friend.

There’s a coffee shop a few blocks down that he likes. Sam introduced him to the latte, and Steve privately thinks it’s one of the best things about the future. War-time standard issue coffee just can’t compare. They also make a chocolatey drink there that Steve thinks Bucky would have liked.

He goes into the coffee shop, barely winded from his twenty mile run, and breathes deeply. He keeps his hood up and hunches his shoulders, trying to blend in. That’s why he prefers the very early morning for his runs – the city’s awake, yes, but almost everyone wanders around in a pre-coffee daze and is too disoriented to hound him with questions or ask for favors. Not that Steve isn’t happy to talk to his fans, he just likes his privacy when he’s Steve Rogers. Steve Rogers isn’t Captain America. Steve Rogers is still the skinny ninety-five pound kid from Brooklyn whom no one gave a second glance, except maybe to see what they’d stepped on.

He buys his latte and walks back to the Tower to sip his coffee in peace and take a shower.

 

Steve wakes up the next morning to the scent of pancakes, which means Clint is making breakfast. He pulls a robe on and wanders out to the kitchen in the ridiculous spangled slippers Tony bought him last Christmas.

Bruce is at the table with his green tea and his avocado toast, reading one of his confusing science magazines that only he and Tony understand, and Natasha is sitting on the counter, idly throwing knives at Clint while he flips the pancakes. (He catches them all of course.)

“Hey, Steve,” Clint says, without looking up from the griddle. Assassins, Steve grumbles to himself. Natasha smiles and tosses a knife through the stack of pancakes Tony was reaching for.

“Hey!”

“How many do you want, Cap?” Clint asks.

“Uh, ten is good.” Steve still finds the sheer amount of food he consumes bizarre, but hey, he’s got a fast metabolism.

Tony shakes his head fondly, plucking the knife from his pancakes. “I wish I could eat like you and still look that good.”

“Maybe you should hit the gym more often,” Steve offers, grinning. Tony rolls his eyes and steals a strip of bacon off Bruce’s plate.

“Excuse you, I’m in the gym plenty. Gotta be able to fit in my suits after all.”

“That Tom Ford was looking a little stretched around the button holes last I saw,” Natasha teases.

Tony sputters. “That – that was because the doom bot snagged my jacket before I got my gauntlet on. Bruce, back me up here, buddy.”

“I – I just want to read my journal and sip my tea,” Bruce says, doing his best to hide behind the periodical.

“Traitor,” Tony mutters. “I’m wounded. I thought we were science bros.”

“Hey, Stark,” Clint calls, chucking a newspaper at Tony over his shoulder. “Front page.” He picks up two plates, balancing them on his arms while he carries two glasses of milk, and sets them down at the table. Natasha sits beside him and drizzles syrup over her stack in an hourglass shape. Clint shudders.

Across the table, Tony’s eyes are alight with glee, and he shakes with barely contained laughter.

“What?” Steve asks, pausing on his fourth pancake to scrape some butter across the top.

Tony clears his throat and snaps the newspaper open to read aloud. Clint and Natasha smirk, which is never a good sign. Steve puts down his fork.

Tony reads, “’Captain America Betrays Nation, Never Orders Coffee Americana.’ Oh this will be good.”

Steve huffs and rests his chin in his palm.

 _The downtown coffee shop Captain Rogers is known to frequent in the early mornings reports that our national American hero has never once ordered a coffee Americana, instead opting for lattes on the regular. Latte, of course, is a shortened form of the Italian word_ cafelatte _, meaning milk coffee. The general public should find this Italian association troubling, since Captain Rogers famously rescued the 107 th, including his best friend and Howling Commandos war hero James Buchanan Barnes, at Azzano in Italy during World War II. The Captain’s coffee choices seem to point to an Italian connection, perhaps, and very likely, trauma-related. Can we trust such a man to defend us when his mind is still back in the 1940s?_

“Wowza,” Tony says. The article even draws a laugh from Bruce.

“That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard,” Steve says, rolling his eyes. “Who prints this stuff?”

“ _Daily Bugle_ ,” Natasha says, cutting her pancakes into strips. “It’s basically a tabloid.”

“Can I see it?” Steve asks, holding his hand out for the paper. Tony tosses it over.

The article is accompanied by a… well from an artistic standpoint, Steve has to admit that the photo is extremely well-composed. The lighting, the angles, the composition, the placement. It’s just him taking a sip of his latte (his delicious latte, thank you very much) on his way out of the shop. But the street is iced up and everything is snow-encrusted from the night before, and he stands out in his dark blue hoodie, looking like he belonged in one of those modern magazine photoshoots.

“Damn,” he breathes. _I look fine_.

“Language!” Tony yells, a little too quickly.

 

If he thought it was a one-off thing, he was most certainly wrong. Over the next few weeks, incredibly artistic photographs of him are all over the front page of the Daily Bugle (to which Tony had taken out a subscription for the Tower) with inversely horrifying captions and stories attached that make absolutely no sense. Steve knows the future is wild (yes, he’s seen every episode with Thor), but he didn’t think the media would be _quite_ this illogical.

CAPTAIN AMERICA, CAN HE BE TRUSTED? _Captain America was spotted in the history section of Barnes and Noble on Thursday afternoon, paging through a Will Durant book. With so much history and time to catch up on, can we trust his judgment during this time of adjustment?_

POSSIBLE HYDRA CONNECTION REVEALED! _Captain America was seen on Sunday at the open air farmers’ market with fellow Avengers Hawkeye, Hulk, Iron Man, Thor, and the Black Widow. He stopped to look at a seafood stall, selling live and dried octopuses and squid. His comrade Thor purchased a live squid (pictured on A4) and it appears he has taken it back to the Tower. The squid, of course, has six arms and two longer ones, much like Hydra, whose symbol features a six-armed skull. Living in such proximity or consuming this squid may be dangerous for our national hero._

CAPTAIN AMERICA PURCHASES ART SUPPLIES, POTENTIAL OCCUPATIONAL CRISIS _Captain America was spotted purchasing ink and pens at DaVinci Artist Supply on West 21 st Street on Monday evening. Will our good Captain be able to adequately defend our world with his attention divided by drawing? His choice of art supply store also reinforces his nostalgia or possibly traumatic connections to Italy, since Da Vinci was a famous Italian Renaissance artist. One of Da Vinci’s paintings, the _Medusa _, features the mythological gorgon’s head with snakes – yet another possible Hydra connection. The Hydra motto “cut off one head, two more shall take its place” is brought to mind with this image._

_Several of Captain Rogers’ sketchbooks were recovered after the war and are currently on display at the Smithsonian Institute._

 

“ _Who_ is taking these pictures?” Steve asks, slapping the _Bugle_ on the table in the common area. He makes a frustrated sound in his throat and flops onto the couch next to Tony.

“They’re actually really good,” Clint says, studying the one of Thor happily playing with the squid’s arms. Steve glares. “Well, I mean the stories aren’t. Obviously.”

“No, they’re hilarious,” Tony says.

Steve sighs. “I know they’re good. I agree with you. It’s just that…”

“It takes time and skill to execute such a good photograph, so your little paparazzo must be incredibly stealthy and good at his job. I didn’t even notice him at the farmers’ market,” Natasha adds, sounding a little bitter and reluctantly impressed. She rubs her chin thoughtfully and then smacks Clint on the leg when he puts his dirty boots in her lap. “Get off me.”

“’Tasha,” Clint whines.

“As silly as these stories are,” Tony says, “And I can’t believe I’m saying this, because these are honestly some of the best laughs I’ve had in ages, I think you should try to track down this photographer and get him off your tail. If he’s this persistent in tailing you at all these random places, he might end up interfering with a mission or jeopardizing a cover or something.”

“You’re probably right,” Steve says. “But if I didn’t notice him, and Nat didn’t either, how the heck am I supposed to confront him when I’m out?”

“You could try to ask who's taking the pictures at the paper offices,” Bruce says mildly from his arm chair. “You could have JARVIS look him up.”

“I don’t want to stalk the guy,” Steve says, shaking his head.

Bruce frowns. “Isn’t he basically stalking you?”

“Yes, but. It’ll be best to catch him in the act, so he knows he can’t get away with it anymore.”

“No, you just want to catch him in the act because he’s gotten the drop on you,” Tony says, smirking.

“Which brings us back to the previous question.” Clint claps his hands together. “Constant vigilance!”

“Right,” Steve says, nodding.

Tony rolls his eyes. “Okay. _Harry Potter_ marathon tonight, gang.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After more ridiculous headlines, Steve admits defeat and asks the team for help.

As Tony predicts, Steve ends up loving _Harry Potter_.

(“Cap gets a hard on for that loud, righteous, anti-Nazi stuff.”

“Tony, that’s just basic decency!”

“I know, but it’s fun watching you get all flustered at a movie.”

“I just can’t believe that damn Ministry—”

“Language!”

“Come on!”)

Somewhere into the third film, Thor shows up at the Tower with Loki, and Loki spends the remaining films pulling faces at the on-screen magic, but Steve notices his eyes stay glued to the screen through the remaining five films.

Natasha buys him a Gryffindor scarf to wear on his runs because you’re so obviously a Gryffindor, Steve. Steve plans to wear it out on his first attempt at catching his personal paparazzo. He has a plan all laid out.

 

He’s back at the coffee shop early the next morning and leaves his hood off in favor of warming his nose in his House scarf. (It’s confirmed. Tony signed him up for Pottermore. (Thor was a Hufflepuff.))

When he reaches the counter, he orders something new. That should attract the attention of his clandestine photographer. While he waits for it, he surveys the other occupants of the coffee shop from behind a pair of aviator sun glasses, looking for people with cameras.

There are plenty of laptops, tablets, and phones, but no cameras – at least, not the sort that would offer the same quality as the published photos. (He asked Tony about that.) A tall man in a black hoodie walks in and gets in line. He keeps his head down and tugs his baseball cap a little lower. Steve watches him, since he looks pretty shady, but then the man takes off his sunglasses, looks up to read the menu, and he’s covered in scars and oh – not polite to stare. Steve averts his own sunglass-hidden eyes and can’t help but think about some of the burn victims he pulled out of a warehouse in France with Bucky. The guy looks like a soldier, despite his please-don’t-look-at-me body language. Steve shrugs it off and taps his fingers on the countertop, waiting for his coffee.

When it comes, even he’s taken aback. He ordered the oddest-sounding thing on the menu, which turned out to be a Starbucks unicorn frappe knockoff. It’s pink and hang on – is that glitter? He hopes it’s edible because it’s literally covering the whipped cream and shit now it’s on his scarf.

He takes off his sunglasses and prepares to waltz out of the coffee shop, crazy coffee confection in tow (and little clouds of glitter). The man in the hoodie gives him a thumbs up as he goes by.

“Nice choice, Cap!”

“Thanks.”

He’s gone about a block and a half and licked all of the whipped cream off the top of his drink when he sees a camera flash. He keeps walking, looking for the source, but this guy’s good and all Steve catches is a bit of sweatshirt ducking away. Steve heads for the alley where he saw the camera flash, but it’s empty.

“Damn,” he says.

 

“How did it go?” Natasha asks. She’s knitting on the couch in the common room. Clint sits on the floor at her feet, playing Mario Kart and holding the yarn captive between his legs as the yarn pays out into the purple beanie hat she’s making for Clint.

“I saw the camera go off this time,” Steve says, sighing. He sets the rest of his drink on the counter top. It’s too sweet for him. He’ll let Thor have the rest.

“Now that I’m looking for a photographer, I definitely stand a better chance at catching him.”

“You really don’t want to just look him up?” Clint gets an evil look on his face. A moment later Sam curses from the other couch and throws down his controller.

“Nah, where’s the fun in that? I want to catch him in the act. I have some pride.”

The next morning, Steve comes to breakfast in his robe and his new Gryffindor scarf. (It’s cozy, sue him. But don’t really.)

Bruce sits in his usual spot, sipping his green tea. Clint is fiddling with one of his trick arrows, and Natasha is glaring into her empty mug as though it’ll suddenly fill with coffee – which is Steve’s job today. He makes a beeline for the coffee maker and shovels in some of the dark roast that Natasha likes (he’s no fool). There’s a sign taped over the sink that says “NO COFFEE GROUNDS IN THE SINK.” Steve will be the first to admit that he’s largely the cause for the sign’s existence.

It’s Tony’s turn to make breakfast today, and Steve smiles appreciatively at the mountain of bacon, eggs, and toast piling up beside the stove (super soldier breakfast, what can he say?). Bruce has already cut the fruit, and there are a few cinnamon rolls leftover from Pepper’s last visit to the Tower. Steve grabs a cinnamon roll and a bowl of mango and takes a seat beside Natasha, who looks slightly less murderous now that her favorite coffee aroma is in the air.

“Sir, that paper has arrived,” JARVIS says.

“Send it up, J,” Tony says, turning the bacon.

“Right away, Sir.”

The paper is delivered and Steve gets up to retrieve it. He has a pretty good idea what’s on the front page of the _Bugle_ today.

“Ah, what have we got today?” Clint asks, leaning back in his chair.

Steve doesn’t reply, just stares. He tosses it onto the breakfast table and sits down with a blank stare.

“It can’t be that bad, Rogers.” Natasha nudges the paper around so she can read the headline.

STEVE ROGERS SPORTS RED-AND-GOLD SCARF, CARRYING TORCH FOR TONY STARK? _Steve Rogers, our beloved national hero Captain America, was spotted yesterday morning, wrapped in a cozy red-and-gold scarf to ward off the chill while he sipped a bright pink iced frappe. Red and yellow are the signature colors of the Iron Man suit made by fellow Avenger Tony Stark, a close friend of Rogers. The intimate article of cold-weather clothing and the out-of-character pink drink order (his usual order is a latte – see B7 for more information on the Italian connection) has the public wondering whether or not Rogers is in a relationship with Stark. What do these sudden changes mean? Pink is, after all, a color closely associated with love. Will this inter-Avengers relationship affect the team’s dynamic? (See B8 for OpEds.)_

“Dear god,” Bruce says. “It gets worse every time.”

Natasha high-fives Clint under the table.

“Well, are we?”

“Are we what, Tony?”

“In a relationship?”

“No. No we are not.”

“You’re no fun. Eat your food, darling.”

Tony smirks and drops Steve’s breakfast in front of him. Steve sighs gratefully and digs into his mountain of protein and carbs.

 

Three more ridiculous headlines later and Steve is fed up with this photographer getting the drop on him. He must be enhanced because surely Steve would have caught him by now.

He went out once to sketch some trees in the park with the ink he’d bought at DaVinci Artist Supply and got headlined as a Hydra agent (again) because of the whole ink-squid-tentacles-logo “connection.”

He went running with Sam in the early morning and landed on the front page of the Bugle. It was a lovely photo (as they all were) of him just about to lap Sam in Times Square. The headline: IS CAPTAIN AMERICA SLOWING DOWN? CAN HE PROTECT US?

Steve offered to pick up Thai food for the Avengers on his way back from checking out a suspicious warehouse, and that photographer captured the glorious moment when he tried to sneak some pad thai on the way back and dropped noodles all over his shield. CAPTAIN AMERICA SOILS THE STARS AND STRIPES.

 

“That’s it! I need backup,” Steve announces, throwing the photo of his pad thai snafu on the breakfast table.

“Took you long enough,” Clint says, smirking. “When do we start?”

“Today. We don’t have any missions, right?”

“That is correct, Captain Rogers,” JARVIS says. “Shall I contact Mr. Thor?”

“Uh,” Steve grimaces. “That won’t be necessary.” The guy’s not really that great at subtlety, Steve thinks.

Steve watches as Tony tinkers with a new robot that’s actively trying to stab Bruce in the hand every time he reaches for his tea cup. Steve catches Bruce doing some serious deep breathing exercises out of the corner of his eye.

“Can’t you fix it, Tony?”

“I’m getting there, Brucey. But I coded him when I was doped up after the giant raccoon incident, and _I’m_ not even sure what I did.” He prods it with a screwdriver a few more times and the thing sparks. Tony yanks his hand back with a curse and the robot gleefully speeds across the table to jab Bruce with its little claw arm.

“Son of a--! I’ll be in the common room if you need me,” Bruce mutters, a strained smile on his face. He gathers up his breakfast, but leaves the tea on the table. Tony pours it over the robot and that seems to fix the glitch.

Steve sighs and begins working on a plan of action with Natasha.


End file.
